


Under Pressure

by Politzania



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Slash, Trapped
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-19
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-05-08 19:52:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14701035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/pseuds/Politzania
Summary: Tony comes to Bucky's rescue as a building collapses around them.  Basically immobilized and stuck in close quarters, they have no choice but to get to know each other a bit better.





	Under Pressure

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a writing prompt I submitted to the WinterIron Discord Key Challenge: "pressure".

“Bucky! I need you off that building now,” Steve commanded over the comms. “It’s gonna collapse any minute!!” The brownstone whose roof he was perched on had taken a few hits, sure, but he wasn’t done yet. After months of working with therapists and legal counsel, Bucky had finally been cleared to join the Avengers on a mission and he wasn’t about to let anyone down -- least of all, his best friend, the man without whom he’d still be Hydra’s weapon.

“Hold your horses,” Bucky replied, squeezing the trigger twice more to take out a pair of plug-uglies. “They’re still trying to flank you guys. Don’t they know when to call it quits?” 

“Don’t worry, Cap,” Stark broke in, “I’ve got eyes on your pal -- bringin’ him right to ya.” Bucky caught a flash of red and gold out of the corner of his eye; Iron Man was swooping down from where he had just taken out the bad guy’s flagship. But before Bucky could wave Stark off, an ominous rumble erupted all around him. The structure tilted crazily to one side, the rooftop disappeared from beneath his feet and he fell. 

Slamming back to consciousness, Bucky opened his eyes; he was startled to see Iron Man’s faceplate hovering just a foot or so above him, with the blue-white glow of the arc reactor the only light. “Stand down, soldier. Don’t make any sudden movements.” 

At Stark’s warning words, Bucky took a quick look around. They were hemmed in by the wreckage of the building, dust still thick in the air. Iron Man was on his hands and knees above his own prone form, shielding him from the detritus of the collapse. Steve had told him about how Stark had sacrificed himself multiple times during the Battle of New York, but Bucky hardly expected he’d do the same for someone he barely knew. “What happened?” 

“Building fall down go boom, and we got caught in the middle,” Stark explained. “Friday estimates between six and eight feet of rubble above us, not counting the slab of concrete I’m currently doing my best Atlas impression with. I’ve locked the armor joints, so you’re not depending on my puny muscles.” 

Still a little dazed, Bucky muttered, “Never thought you were puny.” He’d seen Tony working out in the gym during a recent visit to the Tower; those fancy suits that Stark wore so well hid a surprisingly fit physique. The view had stirred up feelings long dormant, but he’d tamped them down best he was able. 

“Aren’t you sweet?” Stark replied. “Though more likely concussed. What’s your status, anyways?” 

“Been better. My left leg is hung up on somethin’.” Bucky wasn’t lying, not exactly. If he had to guess, a hunk of rebar was the cause of the nasty pain stabbing through his left calf. Despite the serum, he probably wouldn’t be walking away under his own power. Mindful of Stark’s words, Bucky tried gently to free it, but there simply wasn’t room to maneuver. He took a deep breath and noted an unfamiliar metallic tang in the air. “And it ain’t just me bleeding, is it, pal?” 

“Super sniffer on top of everything else, huh? Yeah, I got pinked, too. One of the ab plates didn’t quite do its job.” Bucky could hear the catch in Stark’s voice; he was in pain and trying not to show it. 

“Mind if I check?” It seemed rude to put his hands on the armor without asking permission, even in such close quarters. 

“Be my guest.” 

Bucky ran his hand down the side of the suit and found a jagged edge, slick with blood. He ripped off his sleeve, wadded it up and pressed it against the wound. 

“Not so hard,” Stark hissed. 

“That’s what she said,” Bucky replied in an attempt to distract him from the pain. 

It worked, as Stark barked out a laugh. “Barton taught you that, didn’t he? He’s a terrible influence. And speaking of our teammates...” Stark flipped the faceplate of the armor open. 

“--ny! Bucky! Report! Please!” Steve’s voice was tense and anxious. Bucky hadn’t heard a thing; he must’ve lost his commlink in the fall. 

“We’re here, Cap,” Tony replied. “Covered in a metric assload of rubble, but we’re sheltering under a convenient slab of concrete. Barnes and I are in no immediate danger.” 

“Is that true, Buck?” Bucky could hear gunfire and the clang of Steve’s shield as it ricocheted of of who-knows-what. Or who-knows-who.

“Yeah, a bit banged up, but okay overall,” Bucky responded, hiding his own concern over their situation. Clearly, Steve had bigger things to worry about at the moment. “ You guys wrap things up out there and then come dig us out.” The team should be able to finish the fight; but they couldn’t afford to do an search and rescue mid-battle. 

“We’ll amuse ourselves in the meanwhile, Cap,” Stark broke in. “Over and out.” He then added, “Friday, mute and monitor comms.” With an apologetic look, he explained, “It’d drive me nuts to hear them talking and not be able to do a damn thing about it.” 

“Good thinking.” Bucky had taken advantage of their quick conversation with Steve to take a closer look at the man underneath the armor. Stark had gone quite pale and his hair was plastered to his forehead from the exertion of the fight. His furrowed brow quite probably reflected both his pain and his concern for his teammates

Bucky then spent a selfish moment in appreciating the man’s amber brown eyes, the smile lines that gave his face such character, and the curve of the lips surrounded by the immaculately groomed facial hair. Tony Stark was a handsome man, no doubt about it, and very much Bucky’s type. “Thanks for coming after me,” he said, breaking what felt like an awkward silence. 

“It’s part of being an Avenger; we’ve got each others’ backs,” Stark replied almost dismissively. “Hey, you know what the worst part of this whole situation is? My nose itches like crazy and I can’t do a damn thing about it.” He scrunched up his face, which made him look both years younger and somehow vulnerable. 

Almost without thinking of it, Bucky raised his left arm. “Here. It’s not the cleanest, but if it would help...” He crooked his fingers, then held still, letting Stark control the movement. The action of Stark rubbing his cheek and nose against his hand sent shivers down Bucky’s spine. Not so much because of the touch itself -- the pressure barely registered -- but the idea of such intimate contact. 

“Since it’s right here, mind if my AI and I take a gander at that gorgeous prosthetic of yours?” Tony asked. “I’ve been dying to give it a once-over, but I didn’t want to bring down the wrath of your best buddy.” 

“Knock yourself out.” Bucky held the arm up, turning it slowly this way and that the best he could in their cramped situation. He generally tried not to think about it, but Tony’s evident fascination, his eyes alight as he watched every single movement made Bucky a little less self-conscious. 

“So, what kind of biofeedback does it give you?” 

“Pressure, mostly.” He’d had to be able to pull a trigger, hold a knife or crush a windpipe. “And temperature extremes.” 

“How extreme?” 

“Anything likely to cause long-term damage.” Tony looked somewhat disturbed by his reply. 

“I bet I can do better. Any chance I can lure you back to the Tower for some scans once we’re done here?” Bucky’s pulse raced at the thought of spending more time with this fascinating (and gorgeous) man, even if Tony’s workshop held a disquieting resemblance to the Hydra facilities where he’d been housed. 

“Let’s worry about gettin’ outta here first,” Bucky replied. It was stuffy in their little hidey-hole and combined with the blood loss, he was getting a little light-headed. Admittedly, their close proximity might have had a bit to do with that feeling, as well. 

“Fair enough.” Tony’s eyes narrowed. “You are looking a bit peaked. Friday, increase oxygen levels in here by ten percent.” At what must’ve been a puzzled look on his face, Tony continued, “Since the suit is waterproof and airtight, I carry my own supplies. And speaking of water... Friday, extend hydration wand.” 

A clear tube extended from the edge of the armor towards Tony’s mouth. He took a few sips, then paused. “How rude of me. C’mon. Help yourself.” He nudged the tube so it faced outward. 

Bucky propped himself up on his left elbow, leaned in close (much too close) and put his lips around the tube. He couldn’t remember the last time water had tasted so sweet. But when Tony’s breath ghosted along his cheek, Bucky pulled away. If he stayed there a moment longer, he’d do something he’d regret. 

The tube flipped back, splashing some water on Tony’s face. He took a sharp breath, and his eyes grew wide for a moment before he squeezed them shut. “No, no, no,” Tony murmured, “not now.” The muscles in his jaw jumped and the pulse on his temple started beating faster. It took Bucky a few moments to put everything together, as he recalled what Steve had told him about Tony’s captivity. That little bit of water must have tipped him over into an episode of battle fatigue. 

“Tony, it’s gonna be okay,” Bucky kept his voice quiet and calm, using the same techniques his therapists used when his own memories overwhelmed him. “You ain’t back in that cave. You’re here in New York City. We were fighting bad guys and you saved me from getting squashed flat. We’re stuck here for a bit, but our teammates -- Steve and Bruce and Natasha and Clint -- they’ll all get us outta here any time now. We just gotta hang on for a little while longer.” It wasn’t working -- Tony was hyperventilating, eyes still tightly shut, lost in whatever awful situation his mind was throwing at him. Bucky in turn was desperate to find a solution to his companion’s distress. Thinking that maybe physical contact would help, he repositioned his metal arm to hold the impromptu bandage on Tony’s wound in place. This freed up his real hand, but he was then stymied by the armor; no way to clasp Tony’s shoulder or pat him on the back. 

“Friday, can you retract the helmet, please?” Bucky asked, unsure if the computer would even listen to him. Tony’s quiet “confirm” did the trick, and the helm of the suit smoothly folded away, leaving its occupant’s head and neck exposed. 

“Tony, I’m here. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.” Bucky reached up to rest his hand lightly on the back of Tony’s neck. When he flinched, Bucky froze. But then Tony made a small, broken sound, and let his head sag, leaning his forehead against Bucky’s. 

“I can’t move,” he whispered, “and it’s dark and it’s damp, and it smells like dust and blood.” 

“I know, champ. It's pretty damn awful. But you’re not alone. We’re gonna get out of this, and it’s just gonna be another story to tell over a beer or somethin’. I promise it’s gonna be okay. ” Bucky rubbed soothing circles across Tony’s nape , even as he worried about how cool and clammy his skin felt. “Friday, increase oxygen another ten percent.” The suit hissed quietly, and after a few moments, both of them were breathing a little easier. However, Tony’s pulse was still racing, and that wasn’t doing his wound any good. 

“Anything else I can do to help ya out?”

Tony chuckled softly as he replied, “Oh, you do not want to know the answer to that question, sunshine.” 

While Tony threw out nicknames left and right, Bucky’s heart leapt at what he couldn’t help but hear as an endearment. “Try me.” 

“Friday, compensate for release of right arm.” There was a faint grinding sound as a few elements of the armor shifted slightly and locked into a different configuration. The inner surface of the right gauntlet parted just enough for Tony to squeeze his arm through the gap. His fingers were warm as they caressed Bucky’s cheek, and the intensity of Tony’s gaze was captivating. “Just say the word, and I’ll stop, bright eyes.” 

“ ‘Stop’ ain’t the word comin’ to mind, sweetheart.” As Tony’s hand slid under his head, Bucky surged up into the embrace. Everything about that first kiss should have been wrong -- the awkwardness of their physical predicament, the fact that they barely knew each other -- but nothing had ever felt so right. 

Bucky leaned heavily on Steve as they made their way back to the quinjet, with the Hulk helping Tony along, as none of the others could support the armor's weight and bulk. 

"Sorry it took us so long to get to you, Buck." Steve told him. 

"S'ok. Tony and I found out we had some things in common." Bucky glanced over to see Tony, still terribly pale, looking intently at him. 

"Yeah, did a little team-building exercise," Tony added, with a quick wink.


End file.
